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12727Re: Recovering history and navigating the ZeitGeist

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  • holderlin66
    Mar 20, 2007
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      Profile in Ahrimanic intrusion and Soul overshadowing.

      The Voice of the White House

      "Washington, D.C., March 18, 2007: "Early last week, I was having
      dinner with an old friend of my wife's who works for the Justice
      Department as an analyst. During the course of the meal, he
      mentioned a lengthy report he has on his desk about Vice President
      Cheney. It was compiled by a Department individual, known to him and
      considered to be very accurate.

      It is a lengthy report on Cheney's psychological makeup, his
      physical problems and a clear rationale for his very possible death,
      probably in the near future.

      It is not a state secret that Cheney is in very bad health. He had
      suffered, to date, four major and three minor heart attacks, he has
      had quadruple bypass surgery, a pacemaker installed and two
      angioplasty surgical procedures (to clear badly plugged arteries.)
      The last available, but certainly not public, medical prognosis is
      that it would take very little for Cheney to have a final, and
      fatal, heart attack.

      The recent discovery that Cheney suffered a blood clot in his leg
      and has undergone both a medical intervention and is now receiving
      anticoagulant medicines in addition to a significant regimen of
      other medications aimed at controlling his very high blood pressure
      and equally high cholesterol levels. He has been told by his
      doctors to lose at least 30 pounds, to be very careful of his diet
      and to engage in physical exercise, designed to improve circulation,
      on a daily basis. His age, lack of exercise and weight problems
      coupled with his psychological makeup are inevitably going to kill
      him, sooner rather than later.

      Cheney's psychological makeup is a contributory factor to his
      ongoing and escalating circulation problems.

      He has an obsessive/compulsive personality that internalizes
      stressful episodes. Cheney has always been the powerful and driving
      force behind Bush's disastrous Mid East policies. Cheney is a
      fixated Cold War personality who hates and fears the Russians,
      believing that they are still Communists, bent on the destruction of
      the United States. Cheney is also determined to enrich himself via
      his stock options with Halliburton, the oil company. Due solely to
      his actions in giving Halliburton many highly lucrative, no-bid
      government contracts, Cheney has effectively boosted the value of
      Halliburton's stock and he now holds a significant number of stock
      options in that company, which he once ran, which, if liquidated,
      would make him very rich.

      He has instigated a number of CIA operations against the Russian
      Republic, designed to gain US control over former Soviet republics
      that are rich in oil or who possess territory over which immensely
      profitable oil and gas pipelines must pass in order for these
      resources to reach western markets.

      Cheney hates Russian President Putin because he sees Putin as a man
      who deliberately thwarted US plans to gain control over Russian oil
      and gas resources via the actions of the so-called Russian
      Oligarchs. The latter were all Jews and working with an Israeli-
      controlled bank in New York and with the cooperation of their co-
      religionists in the IMF and the World Bank, came very close to
      achieving this control.

      Putin is now seen by Cheney and his associates as the one force
      blocking a renewal of US business control over Russian natural
      resources and Cheney has made no attempt to conceal his fury and
      frustration over what he sees as a major business and political
      defeat.

      In addition to this problem, Cheney's failing plans to set up a
      permanent US military base in oil-rich Iraq to secure the area and,
      in addition, serve as a badly-needed bulwark for an Israel who
      hates, and is afraid of, many of her very hostile Arab neighbors has
      added immensely to what has been a stressful career.

      I knew Cheney during the Reagan years in power and even then he was
      a driven man, obsessive in his attitudes, completely intolerant of
      any opinions that ran counter to his os own and determined to be
      the man whose decisions were the only correct ones and therefore
      must be implemented. Our of the government, he longed to return to
      the corridors of power and when he was asked to chair a committee to
      find a suitable vice president for the Supreme Court-appointed Bush,
      he naturally chose himself.

      His aides have often spoken, sometimes in my presence, about
      Cheney's contempt for what he sees as a weak and spineless president
      but he realizes that he is incapable of becoming chief of state
      though he once said,,,"If someone nails George, then you'll see some
      royal ass-kicking!"

      Cheney's personal drive and his complete dominance over a weak
      president, coupled with the vicious and vindictive manipulations of
      Karl Rove, Bush's poison dwarf, have wreaked havoc on the American
      diplomatic, military, political and now, economic, structures but he
      will never give up and never leave his White House office except on
      a gurney.

      He has been further stressed by the departure and subsequent
      conviction of I. Lewis Libby, one of his closest associates and a
      good friend. Cheney in triumph was a study in arrogance and power
      but Cheney in growing defeat will only turn his rage and frustration
      inwards and, given his serious medical problems, is a certain
      candidate for an imminent state funeral.

      This may sound cruel on my part, but given the damage Dick Cheney
      has done, and is capable of doing, his passing would be a blessing
      for the people of the United States and, indeed, the world."

      The Heartless Giant ---- Can be read from earlier post

      [Note when the word Giant appears INSERT, Dick Cheney}

      On the whole, there's absolutely no need to be frightened by Giants.
      Giants are gentle souls, perfectly harmless, and very affectionate.
      Unless, of course, the Giant has no heart in his body.

      Think of all kinds of unpleasant things and add Giant to them and
      that's what you get when a Giant has no heart. Such a Giant once
      terrorized a county in the far north of the world, near the very
      top. He'd hidden his heart. It gave him too much trouble, all those
      Giant Feelings, too much pain. In its place was a wasps' nest. About
      to swarm. Put your ear to his chest and you'd hear an angry buzzing
      noise.

      This Heartless Giant could shake a man and shuffle his wits. He
      could crack a skull with his fist like a walnut. And frequently did.
      Until, at last, the old King of that country, as good as the Giant
      was bad, trapped him in a giant trap and locked him in a cell. There
      the Giant crouched, an inch of the outside world to look at, the
      damp dripping from the walls, the dull rattle of his chains, his low
      angry growl a ceaseless rumble through the King's castle.
      Years passed in this was until the Giant's voice had grated away to
      the hoarsest whisper and folk had quite forgotten about Giants with
      no hearts. And he'd be there still, in his foul pit, were it not for
      a little boy whose name was Leo.

      Leo was the King's youngest son. He had two brothers who were
      bigger. Prince Leo could leave not stone unturned, no passage
      unexplored, no drawer unrammaged, so incurably curious was he. One
      morning, scouting the far and deep of the castle, he came across a
      tiny, barred window set in the bottom of a huge gray wall. Looking
      through it, Leo saw nothing buy dank dark pitch black. But as he
      turned away he imagined he heard a stir, and then came a growl, a
      low buzz of a growl. It was a frightening sound.

      His brothers told a Giant with no heart lived in this prison with
      the tiny window. He didn't believe them. They were older, his
      brothers, and forever teasing him. But the next day he went back,
      carrying his drum. "Rat-tat-rat-ta-ta-tat," he played outside the
      window. From inside the dark dank pitch black he heard a rattle,
      like the rattle of a chain. He crept to the window and squinted into
      the shadows. Two eyes blinked back at him. Leo jumped. A wasp buzzed
      angrily through the bars. Leo ran off. It was true, there was a
      Giant!

      All night Leo thougth about the Giant, his eyes, the low rumbling
      growl. Next morning, he was back, "rat-tat-rat-ta-ta-tat," on his
      little drum. The Giant was waiting for him. When Leo tiptoed to the
      window, he was there, whispering hello. The Giant told Leo that long
      ago he had done some bad things and that the King had locked him up.
      Leo couldn't imagine what these bad things were. He worried about
      the poor Giant, stuck down there in terrible chains. He lit a candle
      and held it to the hole.

      The Giant was so big he had to crouch with his chin on this knees
      and his elbos bent. He looked to Leo like a huge sad baby, his
      yellow eyes screwed up against the candle's sudden glare. Leo said
      he would speak to his father, it wasn't fair the Giant had been
      locked up for so long; he must have been forgotten. "No," croaked
      the Giant, all anxious. "If you say anything, they'll make me stay
      down here forever and I shall surely perish." The eyes blinked
      nearer. "Would you like to be my friend?"

      Leo was elated. "Oh yes, yes please!" "Good. Good," said the Giant.
      Good, thought Leo; I have a secret friend. Good, thought the Giant
      who had shed his heart at last. And he sighed a chill sigh and
      planned chill plans, while the young prince skipped back along the
      path, swinging the iron gate behind him, caressing his secret,
      nurturing it, back to his room.

      And so it began, the friendship between the huge, crouching Giant
      and the little Prince. Every day, the boy would appear, rat-tat-
      tatting on his drum. Every day he'd tell a little more, hear a
      little more, until he felt he knew no one better, that no one knew
      him better. Oh, he wanted to tell the whole world about his friend.
      But the Giant said, "Out secret," and Leo agreed, although he would
      have loved to tell his mother or his two brothers or somebody. But
      he couldn't so he shouldn't, so he wouldn't so he didn't. The Giant,
      meanwhile crouched in his blackness and schemed. And so it was that
      one day he told Leo he'd heard a Guard saying that the King slept
      with the keys to the Giant's chains hanging on a ring by his bed.
      Leo had always those keys were for the Crown Jewels. "No," said the
      Giant. "They're for my misery." Leo felt desperate for his
      misunderstood fiend, and a plan formed in his mind. The Giant
      watched it being born and sighed a cold sigh. Deep inside, in the
      prize where his heart should have been, the wasped seethed and
      buzzed.

      That very night, when the whole castle was sleeping, when the Royal
      Guards slumped against their sentry posts and dozed, when the owls
      hooted, little Prince Leo slipped from his bed, slid past a sleeping
      sentry, and pushed on the door of his parents' room. He tiptoed
      round the great bed with its velvet eiderdown, past his sleeping
      mother and sleeping father, to the hook where the keys were hung.
      They were so heavy. He heaved them up and they swung together,
      clanging like the Angelus bell. Leo clutched them tight, their black
      metal teeth squashing his toes, their hooped handles framing his
      face. Slowly, slowly, inch by inch, he dragged the huge keys out of
      the room.

      "I've got the keys," he whispered, trembling at the little window.
      He let them ring against the bars. "Who goes there?" challenged a
      voice from the darkness. It was the one sentry still awake. "Hurry,
      hurry!" growled the Giant from the bowels of the dungeon. Leo
      struggled to push the keys through the bars. The teeth went in and
      the long shafts, but when it came to the ring he couldn't work out
      how to do it. "They're too big," he explained as he heard the
      Giant's snort of impatience. "I can't do it." Leo wanted to drop the
      keys and run for his life. "Push them," hissed the Giant. "Push
      them!" The Giant's voice was colder than the night, it was icy. Leo
      pushed. A great hand yanked on the keys. Leo saw its shape in the
      shadows. He felt a terrible force pulling downward...."
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